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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22830085">The Dominion's Cat</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/YeOldeBard/pseuds/YeOldeBard'>YeOldeBard</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Elder Scrolls Online</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:42:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,521</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22830085</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/YeOldeBard/pseuds/YeOldeBard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>All this one ever wanted was to be a famous cook. But when a werewolf bit him, his life changed. For better or for worse, Sinjaro cannot say just yet. But now that he appears to be caught up in a plot to destroy Tamriel, this one has to say for worse. The life of a Khajiit is no walk through the moon-sugar cane fields.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He stood over his assailant, blood dripping from his maw. Throwing back his head, Sinjaro let out a triumphant howl, a howl that echoed through the cave. He had finally killed the wolf that made him who he was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had been nearly a year since he had found himself in Hircine’s Hunting Grounds, a year since he had given his soul to the Daedric Prince in exchange for the power that would allow him to kill the Nord who had attacked him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The pup becomes a wolf, the hunter hunted, as it should be…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The voice of the Prince echoed in his mind, the words he had heard a year ago, after his first kill. And as he feasted on the fallen werewolf, Sinjaro rejoiced in his successful hunt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is why we can’t have nice things…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The werewolf shook his head, tearing a chunk of guts from his kill as he tried to get rid of the other voice in his head, the voice of his Khajiit self. The other Sinjaro had no place here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was too late. Once the voice broke through, transformation was never far behind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clenching his teeth, Sinjaro held back a yelp as his body convulsed, returning to the cat he truly was. Before, his transformations would leave him writhing in pain for minutes. Not anymore. He was stronger, better able to withstand the change. And resist it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now if only he could keep his mind when he shifted forms…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tortoiseshell Khajiit stood up, brushing himself off. He needed to get to a town soon; his clothes were just rags at this point. Leave it to a Nord to try to find sanctuary in a filthy cave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Collecting his bow and quiver from where he had stashed them, Sinjaro began walking, another thing he had gotten better at in the last year. From a simple Khajiit chef to a fearsome werewolf. Who could have seen that coming?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not this one,” he chuckled grimly, breathing in the scent of the sea nearby.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was such a good smell, full of fish and salt. He was enjoying this island of Auridon. But he still couldn’t wait to get home to Khenarthi’s Roost.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though could he really claim that as his home anymore? He had always venerated the Hungry Cat, for what cat hunted better than one who was hungry? But now he had accepted Lord Hircine’s gifts, and would never feel the warm hand of Khenarthi guiding him to the Sands-Beyond-the-Stars.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He supposed it didn’t matter now. He was alive, and such questions were better answered by wiser heads than his. He was Sinjaro, hunter of Hadvar the Werewolf, Sinjaro Five-claw, Sinjaro… who had just stepped on a sharp rock.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ziss!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grabbing his foot, Sinjaro stumbled and fell to the ground. He examined the wound, glaring as a pair of Altmer laughed, walking past.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dark Moons take you!” he called after the elves. “Jekosiit…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pulling off his boots, Sinjaro tossed them to the side. The soles were so thin they would do no good. He could hear the sounds of a city nearby. Hopefully he could get a new pair there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Khajiit followed a tall cliff, walking through warm sands and listening to the ocean waves break against the narrow shore. He wriggled his toes in the sand, enjoying the sensation. It would take ages to get the dirt out of his claws later but for now he didn’t care. A cool breeze ruffled his fur, his tail swishing amicably as he walked. The incident with the Altmer was behind him already, no harm done to anything but his pride.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A ship came into view slowly, bobbing gently at its mooring. The docks followed, Sinjaro letting out a quiet sigh of relief. He could use a good bath, maybe a nice bed for the night… Though he didn’t have much in the way of coin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged. He was a Khajiit, no? He would just do as a Khajiit does.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hooded figure approached the Khajiit, Sinjaro squinting suspiciously. Dark Moons these Altmer were good. He had only thought about stealing something and they were already coming for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, you look rather capable,” the figure said. “My benefactor has a job offer for you, Khajiit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what might your benefactor desire from a simple Khajiit?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The message is for your ears only. He waits for you in the bunks of the Interim Suitor,” the figure pointed to a ship at the docks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro chuckled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps he should offer this one a drink before asking to bed Sinjaro.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can take the offer or not. I do not have time to waste with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very well, this one will speak to your benefactor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nodding in farewell, the two parted, Sinjaro directing his feet onto a wooden boardwalk. Maybe this job would pay well. He knew the figure had taken note of his scar when she saw him, so clearly she was looking for someone who could handle a dangerous job. But he was a werewolf. What could be dangerous to him, besides another werewolf? Besides, he didn’t exactly have a plan, now that Hadvar was finally dead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro’s nails clicked on the wood of the ship, a pair of masked men guiding him toward the lower deck of the ship. He was a little wary of the two, but he stepped down the stairs anyway. He knew something they didn’t know. If it came to a fight, he was prepared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stumbled slightly through the ship, his feet unaccustomed to the motion of the waves. Catching himself on a doorway, Sinjaro looked inside, finding a Redguard bound and gagged in a chair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmmph!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wha-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro spun, his wolf springing to the front of his mind, but before he could shift, the masked men had knocked him out cold.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Images flashed through his mind, being chained, forced to follow other prisoners down a flight of stairs, watching as an Altmer stabbed a man, the soul being trapped in a gem. Sinjaro felt a great pain in his chest and then cold. Wet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sat up, opening his eyes to a dark and blue world. Sinjaro’s chest hurt, but when he looked down at his threadbare clothing, he saw nothing that told him the source of the pain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rising to his feet, the Khajiit began looking around his small cell, trying to figure out what had just happened. His bow was gone, naturally. What captors would leave a prisoner his weapons? Sinjaro considered himself lucky he was dressed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wafiit… Jer vara ma’i…” he muttered, smacking his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whoa, you okay there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looking up, Sinjaro saw a huge Nord woman, with an equally large battleaxe on her back, standing outside his cell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one must have hit his head too hard…” he muttered, staring at the breasts that were level with his eyes. “To see Jone and Jode so close…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The name’s Lyris. Let’s see about getting you out of that cell,” the woman said, ignoring his comment as she pulled her axe out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With one mighty swing, she struck the side of the gate locking Sinjaro within the cell. With a creaking groan, the gate fell open. Sinjaro knew enough to take the offered escape, leaping out of his cage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt a tugging at his mind, like that of his wolf, but… different somehow. Ignoring the giant Nord as she searched a nearby corpse, Sinjaro focused on the alien presence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Take this help and learn to hunt with a new power.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lord Hircine’s voice rang through his mind, startling Sinjaro. He felt a power surge through his body, pulling at another mind until a dark figure appeared before him, a senche-panther familiar he had seen at one point in the Hunting Grounds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Zephron…” he named her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The familiar stretched, a tiny mewl escaping her maw. She was another gift from the Hunter Cat, one Sinzarin was certain would make for a good hunting companion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you would rather go without a weapon-” Lyris said, holding a huge sword.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one would rather be armed, even if Sinjaro can not use the weapon,” Sinjaro said, accepting the blade.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was surprisingly lighter than he expected, and he was able to swing the blade without much effort, though he couldn’t seem to swing straight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go,” Lyris said, unimpressed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro followed the Nord, mentally asking Zephron to walk ahead of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are we?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Wailing Prison. You are a prisoner of Molag Bal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A prisoner of a Daedric Prince? That should be impossible. He was bound to Hircine… which would explain why Hircine was aiding him in escaping…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An apparition appeared before them, of a hooded man with milky eyes. Sinjaro took a step back, holding his sword in front of him. This man didn’t look dangerous, but then the blind ones usually knew magic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Prophet!” Lyris gasped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Greetings Vestige. Like you, I am a prisoner in this place. You must rescue me, and I, in turn, must rescue you,” the man said, looking straight at Sinjaro.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, if the giant Nord knew him and he knew Sinjaro, he must be okay. Though the Khajiit had no idea how the man knew him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without warning, the man vanished again, freeing the path to a door. As Sinjaro took a step forward, Lyris stopped him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hold a moment, come here. We need to talk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one thinks talking should come after escape, no?” Sinjaro said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was the Prophet. It was dangerous for him to talk to you. He must think you can help me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Help you with what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Breaking him out of course. Believe me, I could use all the help I can get. And before you ask what that has to do with you,” Lyris said, holding up a hand, “that blind old man is the only one who can get you home. Tamriel is a long way from here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Glancing at the door, the Nord added, “That passage should take us to the Tower of Eyes. If we can destroy one of the Sentinels guarding it, perhaps we could break into the Prophet’s cell undetected.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro shook his head. There were so many things that could go wrong with her plan. Still, it wasn’t like he had any ideas. He would have to follow her lead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Passing through the door, they saw a Daedra holding a man by the throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ziss…” Sinjaro groaned as the man was thrown across the room to be impaled on a spike.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What he wouldn’t give for a bow right now…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lyris charged in, Sinjaro sending Zephron after her. To his surprise, the familiar began letting out a wave of electricity, the magic not seeming to affect Lyris.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The middle of a battle was not the best place for surprises. He would have to ponder later. For now, Sinjaro leaped toward the Daedra as he turned, his sword smacking into the creature’s legs. The Daedra stumbled, allowing Lyris to slam her axe into its head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well played friend. Arkay’s beard, you are good in a fight,” Lyris panted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The God of Brutality knows of your escape. Hurry,” the Prophet said around them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heeding his advice, they hurried, passing through another door. Standing on a platform on the other side of the door, Sinjaro scanned the world around him. A river ran through the cold, dead, grey land, a small bridge leading over the waters to a rise in the land. That seemed like a good location for someone to watch the land from.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The God of Schemes can see all of Coldharbour. We need to distract him,” Lyris said beside him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nodding, Sinjaro started forward, Lyris and Zephron following him as he moved through the land. Crossing the bridge, the Khajiit began walking up the hill, crouching down as he neared the top. A large orb spun slowly up ahead, blue light shining from it. It had to be one of the Sentinels Lyris had mentioned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Try to be inconspicuous,” Lyris hissed. “We just got free of this place. The last thing we want is to be captured again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one thinks you might want to be more quiet then,” Sinjaro muttered, before creeping forward, sword in hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waiting for the light to pass around, Sinjaro darted forward, slashing the back of the orb with his blade. It exploded into darkness, Sinjaro stumbling back. The Khajiit spun and sprinted down the hill, spearing a Daedra through the gut with his sword as he ran into it. He struggled to retrieve the weapon, giving up as Lyris ran past him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Quickly, while he’s blinded! We must get to the Prophet’s Cell!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro followed the Nord, rushing toward a cell door. They had done it. That had been easy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cell door erupted in flames, a voice laughing at them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fools! You will never escape my realm!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Herma-Mora’s wagging tongue!” Lyris snapped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one thought it was too easy,” Sinjaro sighed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Sentinel must have triggered the ward. We’ll have to find another way in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you think there wouldn’t be a countermeasure?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lyris ignored him. Sinjaro was getting really tired of her not listening. But for now, he was stuck with her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe Cadwell will help us…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And who is this Cadwell?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cadwell is the oldest of the Soul Shriven. After years of torment, most Soul Shriven go insane. Cadwell was already insane before he got here. Mad as a box of frogs, but completely harmless. You’ll see.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A mad man… Wonderful…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They moved south, Sinjaro searching for a new weapon as he walked. He came across a new recipe for jasmine tea, tucking it into a pocket, but there were no weapons to be found.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One fine day in the middle of the night, two dead kings got up to fight…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro glanced at Lyris. That certainly sounded like the kind of thing a crazy man would sing. They entered a small camp full of Soul Shriven, finding one of them with a pot on his head, strumming a lute with a grin on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hullo, what’s this then? Out for a stroll, hmm? Lovely day for it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cadwell?” Sinjaro asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir Cadwell, yes indeed, a pleasure. And fair Lyris! Good to see you m’dear,” the madman exclaimed cheerfully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re trying to get into the Prophet’s Cell, but the door is warded,” Lyris explained.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh dear, oh dear, that is rather inconvenient. Tell you what, I happen to know of a back entrance, a rather scenic route in fact. Full of traps, and corpses, and other little beasties filling in the bits between. “</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And how would we get through all of these things?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rather cautiously I’d expect,” Cadwell said thoughtfully. “Watch your step, hold your nose, and do mind the traps. There’ll like as not be a fair amount of running and skull bashing as well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Could you tell us where the entrance is?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, just follow the river. You’ll find the door to the Undercroft at the water’s end. Once inside, stick to the light, and you’ll find a ladder that will take you to the Prophet straight away. Do give him my best!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waving them off with a smile, Cadwell turned his attention back to his lute, plucking out another nonsensical tune. As the two left him, Lyris sighed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cadwell seems to think this place is delightful. Probably means it’s a death trap. We’d better be careful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually, this one was thinking of stopping to take a nap in there,” Sinjaro said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lyris glared at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps we better travel separately,” she said, running off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one was only joking. Maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A nap did sound nice. Perhaps when their lives weren’t in danger though. Sending Zephron to scout ahead, Sinjaro followed the giant Nord, humming Cadwell’s tune to himself. It was rather catchy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He found Lyris banging on a metal door with her axe. Shaking his head, Sinjaro stopped the giant, his fingers delicately plucking a lockpick out of her pockets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grunting, Lyris stepped aside to let him work. Sinjaro was grateful for the week of lessons he had taken from Riften’s Thieves’ Guild in exchange for nabbing a gem. It hadn’t even been that difficult of a heist. The Dunmer were entirely too confident in their magic. Magic that didn’t affect a thick coated werewolf nearly that much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The sooner you get that door open-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps you could be silent and let this one work, yes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt through the lock carefully, finding a binding pin easily. Lifting it, the Khajiit searched out the rest, the lock clicking open in seconds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Standing, he pushed the door open wide.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew the Khajiit could pick the lock,” Lyris grunted, walking past.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmmddrrr…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro stopped himself. He didn’t need to attack the Nord. That would spell disaster for them both. But soon, very soon, she’d get what was coming…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Following the Nord into the Undercroft, Sinjaro’s eyes widened at the sight of a bow next to a fully stocked quiver. Those were his…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Darting forward, the Khajiit rolled under a skeleton that attacked from the side. Zephron attacked the skeleton, electricity filling the air around her as Sinjaro strung the bow. He turned around as the skull rolled past him, an arrow on the string of his bow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zephron trotted past him, Lyris following the familiar. He let them have their moment of glory. The next kill would be his…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They wandered through the Undercroft, Sinjaro mindful to keep near the light. One other skeleton came after them, but he was able to knock its head off with an arrow while Zephron scratched at its legs. Ducking between twin streams of blue flame, Sinjaro paused before a doorway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Prophet’s cage should be just ahead! Quickly, we haven’t much time!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro shook his head as Lyris hurried inside. He followed close behind, finding the Nord standing before a large force field floating above the ground. A man hovered inside the field, the same man that had appeared before them earlier.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He is real. This one must confess he is surprised,” Sinjaro said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, he’s real, and he appears unharmed. Now the bad news. It will be up to you to keep him safe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sinjaro must not have heard you correctly. Is the Prophet not your friend?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There is a trick to getting the Prophet out of that cage. The only way for a prisoner to leave is for another living soul to take their place. I need to swap places with the Prophet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro frowned at the Nord. This is why he hated magic. Too many rules.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Surely there is another way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Believe me, I wish there was. But I don’t see anyone else here with a beating heart,” Lyris said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one has a heart-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro paused, setting his hand against his chest. The pain had certainly diminished, but it was still there. He couldn’t feel his heartbeat either.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sinjaro’s heart is not beating…” he said in alarm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Took you long enough to notice that. Once it’s done, get moving. The Prophet will know where to go, but he’ll need your eyes and your protection.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro nodded, still trying to accept that his heart had stopped somehow. Lyris stepped into a stone circle on the ground and a blue glow surrounded her, picking her up into the air. She screamed in pain as a Daedra appeared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zephron charged, Sinjaro providing ranged support. The Dadra fell quickly, only for a second one to appear behind Sinjaro.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mor kha’jay!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Daedra’s claws caught him in the gut, knocking him off balance. Zephron rushed past him, distracting the Daedra long enough for Sinjaro to put an arrow in its head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two pinions appeared, small glowing orbs within a broken cube. As Sinjaro held his hand near one, it snapped shut, dropping into the ground. He repeated the process with the other pinion, and Lyris cried out again as she was suddenly catapulted into the cage, the Prophet taking her place outside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Freedom! I remember this feeling…” the old man said, straightening with the aid of a staff. “Thank the Divines you are safe! There is that, at least. Lyris sacrificed everything that we might go free. Her sacrifice must not be in vain.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one does wonder if there is a way we might take her with us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wish that were possible. But I promise, once we escape Coldharbour, we will find a way to rescue her together, Vestige.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You called Sinjaro Vestige before. Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That is the name I have given you. You are but a trace of your former self, a soulless one. A vessel that longs to be filled. It is as the Elder Scrolls foretold, though not how I imagined it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All these jetwijijri wanting to fill Sinjaro but not wanting to have dinner first. Does this one look like an easy Khajiit…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Quickly now, we must make haste to the Anchor. The Anchors are Daedric machines of the darkest magic. Their chains bind our world and pull it toward Coldharbour. I can use one of these anchors to take us back to Tamriel, but you must lead me to it, up the stairs!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was rather perceptive for a blind man. Sinjaro wondered if he had seen the stairs before he went blind. Who knew how long ago that was?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You may take Sinjaro’s tail if you must. But no tugging,” the Khajiit said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He led the blind man up the stairs and into another chamber, where they found a circle with four giant chains hanging from it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Anchor Mooring!” the Prophet exclaimed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shaking his head, Sinjaro continued forward. Suddenly the ground shook, a giant hand sprouting from it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A mortal thinks it can defy me? Futile. Soon your world will be in my chains.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro shuddered as he realised Molag Bal was speaking to him. If he was to fight a Daedric Prince, he wasn’t about to do it in this body…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His body trembled as a giant construct crawled out of the ground. With a snarl, Sinjaro let his wolf take over, lunging at the giant. In seconds, it was over, the colossus lying broken on the ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjarin broke off mid howl as a hand touched him, forcing a state of calm into his mind. The werewolf melted back into his Khajiit body once more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A moment Vestige,” the Prophet said. “The Anchor’s portal is high above us. I will prepare a spell to lift us to it, but first you must re-attune yourself to Nirn with a skyshard to regain your physical form.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is a skyshard?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A piece of Aetherial magicka that carries the essence of Nirn. If you collect one and absorb its power, it should restore your corporeal form. I shall summon one for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Collecting power? Sinjaro was intrigued. He had just made a rather powerful enemy. Perhaps these skyshards would allow him to survive the Daedric Prince’s wrath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There. Quickly, collect the skyshard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It shone with a blue light, rising into the sky like a beacon. Reaching out his hand, Sinjaro touched the skyshard. He was bathed in light, the power of the shard lifting into the air. It was filling him with a warm glow, energy coursing through his body. He felt alive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Landing back on the ground as the glow faded, Sinjaro found the Prophet slamming his staff against the ground, perilously close to the edge of the anchor. Another glow appeared, and the Prophet reached blindly for the Khajiit. Clasping hands, the two rose into the air, Sinjaro crying out in surprise. He did not like this method of travel at all.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Home At Last</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He could hear the sound of the ocean, smell the scent of drying fish in the air. Such a beautiful thing, the ocean. It gave a whole new method of hunting, with spears and nets...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro’s stomach gurgled loudly and he groaned, sitting up. His head was pounding, an ache like he hadn’t felt since he stopped taking moon-sugar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Vestige awakens once again!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rajhin kodesh!” Sinjaro yelped, head whipping around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He saw the Prophet standing near a door, the same ghostly visage that had appeared in the prison.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As I feared, we have arrived in different locations. I am in a city near the sea, in a land of eternal spring. The air smells of the ocean, and of markets, and gardens… It matters not. You have awakened once again and we must set you on your path.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sinjaro’s path leads him to home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would that we could choose our paths in life…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was simple, wasn’t it? He just needed to get to Khenarthi’s Roost, travel across the island to Eagle’s Strand and and go to his home. It would be nice to sleep in a familiar bed. Maybe he’d actually sleep through the night for once. If he still had a home. He had been gone for a while.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Er, how long was this one unconscious for?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Days, weeks? I can not tell. The voyage between worlds has disrupted all sense of time and space. I only know that you were deposited into the sea and some charitable soul fished you out and brought you to dry land.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What would you have Sinjaro do now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You will have to decide that for yourself. As for myself, I must find some way to repay Lyris for her sacrifice. I can not leave her to Molag Bal’s wrath,” the Prophet said sharply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one assumes he will see you again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Most assuredly. There is still much we need to accomplish. But off with you. We will speak again when the time is right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Prophet faded away, the room darkening as his glow followed. Taking better stock of his location, Sinjaro found he was in some kind of tower, shattered and broken. He had been laying upon a simple cot under the only bit of roof left, and there was a cauldron sitting nearby. When he sniffed at it, the Khajiit found it contained a cold, watery carrot stew. Still, food was food, and certainly whoever took him in wouldn’t mind a little more charity.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Near the door, Sinjaro discovered a real treat. A selection of basic lockpicks, a pair of gems, a simple jack, and a bow better than the one he had picked up in that accursed prison. He collected them all, shedding his ruined shirt for the jack. Now if only he could find some boots…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Exiting the tower, Sinjaro blinked in the sudden sunlight. He was standing near the entrance of a ruined fort… his ruined fort.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bright Moons,” he sighed, looking around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was changed, that was for sure. There were far too many Altmer running around, and injured cluttering up the place. Sinjaro could see his dilapidated tower, the only real home he had known, taken over by a strange Khajiit in a dark blue robe carrying an intricate staff.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was not okay. He had nowhere to go. Surely she would be amenable to sharing. There was space for them both there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crossing the broken down fort, Sinjaro approached the Khajiit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, we are out of moon sugar. You will have to wait for the next shipment,” the Khajiit said tiredly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one has not had moon-sugar in months, but that is not why Sinjaro is talking with you. You are in Sinjaro’s home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your… home… has been commandeered by the Aldmeri Dominion to assist in the recovery efforts. I assure you when we are finished, you will be allowed to have it back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who are you?” Sinjaro frowned. “You look like Khajiit yet speak like Altmer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one-” The Khajiit stopped, taking a breath. “I am Lieutenant K’radel of the Aldmeri Expeditionary Force in Khenarthi’s Roost.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And this one is out of a home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Muttering quietly, Sinjaro started walking, only to be stopped by a calico hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For what it is worth, this one is sorry for your troubles.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A handful of gold fell into Sinjaro’s hand, Sinjaro looking at it in surprise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you walker,” he said. “Sinjaro wishes you well with your task.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jobal kha’jay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They parted, Sinjaro looking around again. He was at a loss for what to do. All around him were soldiers busy at work, a bustling camp vastly different than the Eagle’s Strand he knew before. Slowly he came to the conclusion that there was nothing for him here. Perhaps he could go to Mistral, offer his services as a chef. After all, he was the only one who could make… could make…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dark Moons…” Sinjaro snapped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d always been a chef, memorizing his recipes like all great cooks. But now he couldn’t remember a single recipe. How did one forget his life’s work?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey wet one!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A Khajiit approached Sinjaro, dressed in black leather armour. He had a twinkle in his eye, like one used to making mischief. Sinjaro was no stranger to mischief himself, but he doubted now was the time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The hurricane must have disoriented you quite a bit, friend. Come, speak with Razum Dar a bit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His voice was like a silky purr, the sweetest moon-sugar mead, and Sinjaro suddenly had a mental image of himself entwined in the Khajiit’s arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro shook his head roughly. That was the last thing he needed, to be caught up with some Aldmeri Khajiit. But he followed Razum Dar to another tower anyway. He had nothing else to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one thinks we might be able to help each other,” Razum Dar said as they stood against the tower. “But first, a question. Where are you from?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro had no idea what the Aldmeri meant. And he couldn’t exactly say he had come from a Daedric prison. But he had a hunch. There had been a hurricane, and now there were a bunch of soldiers in his home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one is a recruit who washed ashore with the other soldiers,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Razum Dar chuckled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, lie with confidence and a twinkle in your eye my friend. You will do perfectly. If you are a recruit, we shall speak with the commander. She may have work for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is in it for this one? You say you can help Sinjaro. What if Sinjaro doesn’t need help?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No one will stop you from leaving. But if you stay, you can do some good and get rich while doing so.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro thought for a moment. He did need money. And he had survived everything that had been thrown at him. He had even gone claw to claw with a Daedra and survived.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you? You have some stake in this as well,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Raz merely needs a friend who can talk to the people, put in a good word for the Aldmeri Dominion.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro took a moment to think. He needed money. He was officially homeless, and barely had enough for a mead in Mistral. At this point, he couldn’t afford to be picky about what jobs he took.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sinjaro will help you. But this one must be paid for his work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course!” Raz said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro didn’t trust the grin on the Khajiit’s face one bit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Follow me, and we’ll speak with the commander. She will have some work for you to do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They walked back through the fort together, Sinjaro ensuring he stayed at least two arm lengths away from Raz. Approaching a gold-skinned Altmer barking orders, Raz waited for her attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Commander Karinith, this recruit says he would like to help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good, I need a scout,” she said, glancing at the bow on Sinjaro’s back. “Several of my soldiers are missing and I need someone to find them. There are reports of Sea Vipers along the coast, scavenging the wrecks from the hurricane. See what you can find out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned away, leaving Sinjaro to puzzle through the orders as he would. He knew about Sea Vipers, the Sea Elf pirates that claimed Khenarthi’s Roost belonged to them. But he hadn’t expected them to be raiding the coast. That was disturbing news.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There, you see? You fit in perfectly,” Raz smiled. “While you find the missing soldiers, this one will be in Mistral, dealing with some… diplomatic issues that have arisen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And this one’s money?” Sinjaro asked suspiciously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If Commander Karinith doesn’t give you a reward, Raz will when you get to Mistral,” Raz winked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro felt his loins stir and he turned away quickly. His tail swished in annoyance. How could the Khajiit get to him like that? Sure, Sinjaro joked about sex a lot, but he wasn’t easy. Yet Raz seemed to play him like a lute.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Until we meet again, jobal kha’jay t’harith jer drago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had missed the tongue of his people, and hearing it from the mouth of someone with a voice like that… It did not bode well for his self control. Sinjaro hurried away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he neared the other end of the fort, Sinjaro’s eyes picked up a bright blue beam rising into the air. Curious, the Khajiit followed the beam to a tower, climbing up two flights of stairs. He found a skyshard at the top, his body nearly crying out for the power it could provide him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kneeling, Sinjaro let the shard’s energy flow into him. He could feel things moving through his head, information that might be learned if he could just find the final piece. Something about arrows falling from the sky.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shaking his head, the Khajiit descended the stairs, making his way out of the fort. He doubted he would see the place again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Five minutes after leaving the fort, the Khajiit remembered he had no boots. His feet were killing him. But Sinjaro wasn’t going to let a little pain stop him. He would carry on, find these missing soldiers. In fact, he could hear someone calling already.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At a crossroad further ahead, Sinjaro found a Bosmer in an Aldmeri uniform, clutching her arm to her chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You there, have you seen my crew? They answer to Edhelas, Onglorn, and Nistel,” she said, gritting her teeth with pain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one has not met any of your soldiers. Are you certain they survived the storm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Wood Elf shrugged helplessly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re Dominion Marines. We laugh at the ocean’s attempts to kill us. Hurricanes though, they’re another matter…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sinjaro can help you find them. But what should this one do about their wounds?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Our hold was full of an old Bosmer remedy. It’s labelled Torchbug Treacle, but most of us call it glow juice. You can try to find some, but you might have to fight the alits for it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro winced. Alits were crabby on a good day. With the storm barely past and strangers trodding on their land, the monsters would not consider this a good day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sinjaro will do his best,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do me a favour, if you find my squad, tell them the sea hasn’t got me yet,” the Bosmer said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nodding, Sinjaro turned, taking the narrow road down to the shoreline, where he could see plenty of wreckage from the fleet. He felt a presence enter his mind, one he recognised as Zephron. Shrugging, the Khajiit let his energy flow from his body, summoning the cat. She would be good company in his search.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He found the glow juice first, in the guts of an alit he cut up. No one had ever claimed the creatures were smart. But he was grateful Zephron had shown up. If he didn’t have to fight the alits alone, he was happy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro shook his hands, the alit’s gore flying off him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh, why did Sinjaro agree to this?” he muttered, tucking the third bottle of treacle in a bag he had found.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Standing, the Khajiit picked up the scent of blood, coppery and tart. It was easy to follow the trail, and he said a brief thanks to the Hungry Cat for his increased sense of smell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He found the source of the blood sitting against a broken mast, holding his side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who are you?” the Bosmer asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sinjaro was sent by a very concerned marine to search for her crew,” the Khajiit replied, pulling out a bottle of treacle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sergeant Firion? Hah, she made it,” the elf chuckled weakly, taking the bottle Sinjaro handed him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He swallowed the juice, grimacing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tastes like boiled sandals in mint tea… But it should knit up my ribs like new. I’ll find Sergeant Firion, let her know I’m alive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro moved on down the beach, skirting around groups of alits. He felt better about his task with Zephron watching his back, but he didn’t want to get into pointless fights.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, he had to kill another two alits before he found the next marine sitting between two rocks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I lost a lot of friends to that storm, cat. Give me some good news.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro bristled at being called cat, but he squashed the feelings down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sergeant Firion sent this one to find you and your squad,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s alive? That is good news. I saw her go overboard. Held onto the ropes as long as I could. Tore my hands up…” The Bosmer held up her bloody hands. “I’m useless to my crew if I can’t hold a weapon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here, this one has glow juice,” Sinjaro said, opening a bottle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He helped the marine drink, the skin on her hands slowly growing back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks. Once I can heft Spleen-Shanker, I’ll push up the beach and find Sergeant Firion.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro noticed a greatsword at her side, the hilt covered in wet sand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one needs to find the last member of your squad,” he said, standing up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hope they appreciate their good fortune when you find them,” the Bosmer said, standing beside them. “Scrib humping sack of PUS! That stings!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro left her to her swearing, making a mental note to never get sand in his wounds. From the sound of it, the feeling was not pleasant.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He found the final squad member in front of a wreck. Yet another Bosmer, which did little to make Sinjaro think there would be racial equality under the Aldmeri Dominion. Separate squads for soldiers under their command? Did they also give their Wood Elf underlings weapons made of wood and not bone? Even Sinjaro knew of the Green Pact that forbade Bosmer from using vegetation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then, he was a rather well travelled Khajiit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You got some glow juice on you? I can’t get anywhere with my leg like this,” the Bosmer said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro handed the last flask over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bless Y’ffre! Soon as I can stand I’ll head inland.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one has found the other soldiers in your squad and sent them to meet Sergeant Firion. They’re all safe,” Sinjaro announced.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lieutenant Gelin dragged me out of the water. He’ll want to know Sergeant Firion and the others are safe. Think he said something about finding some shelter in a cave up ahead, but I was still spitting up sand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro scanned the shore, spotting the entrance to the cave not far ahead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You go find your sergeant. This one will tell your lieutenant where you are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sun was starting to fall, waning Jone making its way through the sky with a new Jode. Suthay moons, like the ones that Sinjaro was born under. If he was lucky, Sinjaro could talk to the lieutenant and have enough time to find a bed for the night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sand crunched under his feet as he neared the cave, the sound of water dripping from within. Zephron trotted past him, scouting the cave out for him. He could see torches hanging from the walls, small piles of ash at their bases. Flames flickered over the walls, lighting much of the cave, but a large formation blocked his sight through the center of the cave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro pulled out his bow. He had been taken by surprise one too many times. It would not happen again. He crept through the cave, eyes shining in the flickering light. The Khajiit paused as his ears picked up a hiss. Snakes… He hated snakes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then it came around the corner. Nearly ten feet long, with scales that shone bright green in the torchlight, the snake made Sinjaro tremble in fear. Its body scraped over rocks and bones, dried scales rustling as it neared the Khajiit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro set an arrow on his bow, the projectile clinking quietly as his hand trembled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now would be a good time for Sinjaro to turn into a wolf…” he stammered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His wolf remained dormant though, lacking the bloodlust to come forth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Clawless coward,” Sinjaro muttered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took a step back, anchoring his arrow at his ear. The arrow leapt forward, sticking between a pair of scales, and the snake let out a deafening hiss. Zephron darted forward, hissing back at the snake, and Sinjaro laughed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t help it. The sight of the dark panther staring down a giant snake was too much for him. The Khajiit echoed the hiss, feeling emboldened. He could kill this thing, and it would be a mighty hunt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loosing another arrow, Sinjaro darted under a strike, the snake coiling up with their positions reversed. A wave of electricity washed over the fight, the snake breaking its coil. Taking the opportunity, Sinjaro sent one last arrow into the snake’s head. The fight was over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Standing over his defeated foe, Sinjaro held out his bow. It really was a piece of garbage, a low draw weight making it nearly impossible to penetrate anything. But beggars couldn’t be too picky, and he was definitely a beggar cat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one is lucky Sinjaro is a good shot,” he muttered, kicking the snake. “Here is snake… Where is the Bosmer?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Khajiit looked around the cave, body still tense from the fight. There were a lot of bones strewn about the cave, too many even for a snake of this size. Assuming snakes left the bones. Sinjaro thought they swallowed their prey.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He fought back a shudder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can run screaming like ma’khajiit later,” he said sternly. “Sinjaro better get more than twenty gold for this…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Walking cautiously through the cave, Sinjaro discovered a gruesome sight at the back. Tied to a pole was an Aldmeri soldier, body sliced to ribbons. His armour was missing, though a set of hide epaulets lay on the ground nearby. Sinjaro picked them up. By the look of it, the lieutenant wasn’t going to need them any more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kneeling beside the body, the Khajiit examined the wounds, taking in a green foamy pus that oozed from arcane sigils carved into the Bosmer. Something was going on here. Something that likely had to do with the Sea Vipers, if the giant snake was any indication. Sinjaro just hoped the new Dominion soldiers could stop them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Setting the epaulets over his shoulders, Sinjaro left the cave, finding Sergeant Firion standing with her squad outside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Turns out my squad were the ones who found me. Ever think about a career as a Dominion Marine?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Moons no…” Sinjaro shook his head. “This one found your lieutenant dead. Some kind of ritual, though Sinjaro does not know for what.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lieutenant Gelin dead? As some part of ritual? What else did you find in that cave?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bones and a rather angry giant snake.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is too large for me and my squad. We need reinforcements. Nistel said there’s a beached ship further up the coast with some Dominion soldiers onboard. We need to get Lieutenant Gelin out of that damned cave. Would you go warn the crew of the ship for us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Glancing at the darkening sky, Sinjaro shrugged. He doubted he would be able to sleep too soundly after seeing that soldier.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one will warn the boat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, take these. I found some glow juice. The squad doesn’t need them any more, so I thought they might help you,” the sergeant said, handing over a trio of bottles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Sinjaro smiled slightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least these ones didn’t have alit guts all over them. Sinjaro would take his victories gladly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He found the ship nearby, a Khajiit working on some boards by the light of a lantern beside a gangplank.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You aren’t a silk-arsed Sea Viper or a cabbage mouthed castaway. State your business with the Prowler,” the Khajiit demanded without looking up from his work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one found a Dominion marine dead in a nearby cave. The dead marine appears to have been used in a ritual. Sinjaro thought you might want to know. His squad asks for reinforcements,” Sinjaro added, almost as an afterthought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Well the Prowler is sitting like a hen in a wolf den for the moment. Perhaps this squad you mention could help with repairs, show they aren’t just two legged cargo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sinjaro is certain they’d be glad to help. What needs repairing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We are missing a helmsman’s wheel that needs to be replaced. And there are several holes that need patching. Perhaps your soldiers could do some actual work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one will do what he can.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, and the sun-sighter fell overboard when we beached. Our lookout saw those skink-fingered pirates scurry off with it. You’ll have to get it back any way possible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro let out a sigh. This looked like it was going to be a long night. But he would do it. For the gold.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Returning to the squad, he found the Bosmers stacking one last rock on a small pile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’ll keep for now,” Sergeant Firion said. “What did the sailors say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They can’t promise reinforcements. Their ship is broken, but if we fix it, they might be able to help you in return.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sergeant Firion hummed thoughtfully, studying her squad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What needs to be done?” she asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The hull needs patching, the helmsman’s wheel has to be replaced, and the sun-sighter was taken by Sea Vipers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sergeant nodded, as though Sinjaro had confirmed her suspicions about the involvement of Sea Vipers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nistel, you fix the leaks. Edhelas, you’re our best scavenger, go find a new wheel. Onglorn, you can track down the Vipers that stole the sun-sighter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As her squad vanished into the night, Sergeant Firion looked back at Sinjaro.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is there anything else?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one does not think so. Sinjaro will return to the Prowler and see if they will send reinforcements.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, did you say the Prowler? Those aren’t Dominion sailors, they’re privateers! Just our luck!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In Sinjaro’s experience, privateers hold themselves to a code. If they said they’d do something, they’ll not back out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See what you can do then,” Firion shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro began walking again, muttering quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go here, do this, run back… Sinjaro is not a messenger…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stopped beside the old Khajiit quartermaster, who watched Nistel work with approval.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe this one was too hasty to judge these soldiers. You have Oblan’s thanks, walker. And more than that. We cannot provide reinforcements, but Captain Jimila has some information that might prove useful to you. She’s on the forecastle. And don’t worry, she only bites if you give her good reason.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was a little wary of being back on a ship, the memory of his last foray still fresh in his mind. But Sinjaro didn’t let his worry show as he walked up the stairs to the forecastle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks to you, the Prowler will be free of its bonds soon,” the Khajiit captain said as he approached.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She seemed too soft-spoken to be the captain of a privateer, but Sinjaro had seen stranger things in the past year. Like an Argonian healer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have no reinforcements for you, but I have information. I know who is killing the Dominion marines. Our lookout saw Sea Vipers drag a marine into a cave. Later he saw your friends remove the body. Had we not been so short handed, I would have ordered his rescue, but members of my own crew are missing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened to your crew?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Sea Vipers happened. Before we understood the danger, I sent my crew to scavenge among the shoal. We thought they had just gone missing, but one returned not long ago, claiming she had been captured by Maomer trying to raise another hurricane.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dark Moons, what has this one gotten himself into…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My crewmates are tied up to serpent statues on a wrecked Dominion ship. There was something about lodestones on the Maomer wrists being the only way to breach the lightning chains. I would ask Mastengwe, but she is still recovering from the ordeal. Perhaps you could scout the area for us?” Captain Jimila asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want this one to kill some Maomer, sneak into their den, and rescue your crew?” Sinjaro clarified.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wasn’t willing to go that far, but you seem capable. If you can manage it, the Prowler would be forever in your debt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one does not like it. But Sinjaro could use a good hunt,” the Khajiit shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I wish you well, walker.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro hurried off the ship, heading in the direction Jimila had pointed. Zephron followed closely, feet stepping silently behind him. As Sinjaro drew close to the island where the other ship was beached, the wind picked up around him. A storm was brewing, one he was supposed to stop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maormer patrolled the area, scavenging and looting. Sinjaro skirted around the majority of them, but there was a pair he couldn’t seem to get by. On the other side of them, he could feel a power calling to him, reaching out, and as rain fell around him, the Khajiit spied a blue light reaching into the sky. A skyshard. He was going to get that shard. And these two Maomer were not going to stop him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Setting an arrow to the string of his bow, the Khajiit studied his prey. A dual-wielder and a mage. His fur would have stood on end had he not already been soaked to the bone by the rain. That mage was his priority.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sending Zephron to sneak around the two, Sinjaro stood and loosed his first arrow. It sailed into the mage’s gut, the Sea Elf crying out in pain. Instantly his companion was alert, charging toward Sinjaro. Zephron jumped between the two, her electricity seeming to do nothing against these enemies. Sinjaro saw a faint yellow glow pulsing from the duelist’s wrist. It had to be a lodestone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rolling under an attack, the Khajiit loosed another arrow at the mage, catching her in the shoulder. This time she stayed down, allowing Sinjaro to focus on the Elf that was attacking once more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A swipe across his stomach dealt little damage, his jack preventing most of it. Grabbing a third arrow, Sinjaro launched the projectile into the Maomer’s unprotected face from mere feet away, smiling in grim satisfaction as the Elf dropped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the second time he had killed someone, and Sinjaro’s blood was boiling., the call of the hunt strong in him. Yet his wolf stayed down. No matter. There was bound to be more blood before he was finished.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As the skyshard shared its power with him, Sinjaro saw the missing piece of the arrows falling from the sky. A simple burst of energy, timed right, would break an arrow in midair, allowing shrapnel to fall over an area. He smiled, pleased with his new knowledge, even as he pushed deeper into the storm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crawling up a line of rocks beside the ship, the Khajiit paused, spying a Sea Elf standing in the middle of the deck. Lightning poured out of the elf, winds swirling in an endless vortex. This was not someone Sinjaro wanted to fight, even with the lodestone he had claimed from his victims.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silently, Sinjaro crept to the left, toward the bow of the ship, where he had seen a tall serpent statue. It had to be where one of the privateers were being held.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sure enough, there was a Khajiit held bound by a lattice of lightning. Holding out the lodestone, Sinjaro winced as electricity ran into his talisman.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“These Maomer are insane!” the other Khajiit yelped over the noise of the storm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ran toward the main deck, Sinjaro hoping that he would slip past the Sea Elf unharmed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, that was unacceptable. Sinjaro needed to make sure. He stepped out of hiding, Launching an arrow into the air. With a short burst of energy, the arrow exploded, showering down upon the storm mage. Zephron leapt into battle as Sinjaro launched another arrow, barely dodging a bolt of magical ice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They made short work of the elf, Sinjaro ending the fight with an arrow in the chest. As the mage fell, the violent storm ceased abruptly, the ritual aborted by the absence of two pieces. Sinjaro was breathing heavily, the smell of blood strong. The wolf was growing within him again; he just needed one more push.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Collecting the mage’s staff, the Khajiit hurried to the stern of the ship, freeing the other crew member. Together they hurried off the ship, Sinjaro leading him to the Prowler. It wasn’t long before he was standing before the captain once more, the sky lightening in predawn splendor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Suhr and Virkvild are returned to us, shaken, wet, but physically unharmed,” Jimila said. “My lookout says I can thank you for that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro nodded, not trusting his voice. He could feel the wolf prowling within him. If he shifted forms now, it would be disastrous for all involved.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your marine friends stopped a band of Maomer from reaching the ship,” Jimila added with a smile. “All of you are welcome on the Prowler any time. Perhaps we will see each other someday in Mistral. Until then, please accept this and our sincere thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Khajiit captain handed Sinjaro a small bag full of coins, and a large wooden shield. Sinjaro smiled, accepting the gifts. He would make good use of them in Mistral.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Mistral</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It took nearly half the day to reach Mistral, Sinjaro winding his way through the island. His feet were bleeding from numerous small cuts, his tail hanging low. Why was he doing this again? Jimila had given him enough gold to get by for at least the next week. He could probably find a ship to take him back to Auridon, maybe set up camp as a hunter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Khajiit nearly cried as he spied the bridge heading into the city. Finally he could sit, get some food, sleep. And then buy some boots for his poor feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You made it! Good!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His head snapped up. That voice. He hated that voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Razum Dar stood leaning on a post, staring at Sinjaro with that twinkle in his eye again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You. Do you know how much trouble this one went through for you and your Dominion?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Raz was confident you could handle everything,” the other Khajiit smirked. “Step carefully in Mistral my new friend. Serpents wander through the tall houses.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Raz flipped a coin toward Sinjaro, the Khajiit catching it in confusion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one speaks of the ambassadors. The Dominion is trying to aid Mistral, yet the Maomer seem to have designs on the city for themselves. Perhaps you could talk to the Silvenar in the Chancery about the negotiations; show him that token. Raz thinks you might be just what we need.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what is in it for Sinjaro? This one is waiting on your last reward.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry. Raz never forgets his friends.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A clawed finger ran down his cheek, the scent of the Khajiit nearly unleashing Sinjaro’s wolf. He stepped back quickly. His body yearned for the Khajiit’s touch, but he was not giving in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine. But this one has things he needs to do in Mistral first.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Starting past the Dominion Khajiit, Sinjaro paused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one must ask, who are you exactly?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Razum Dar smiled as one would at a ma’khajiit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Raz is a simple Khajiit. He seeks only to do what is best for all of Tamriel. Also a saddle that won’t pinch the tail. One day…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro continued on his way, still unsatisfied. There was something more to Raz, he just knew it. But for now his aching feet and grumbling stomach reminded him of his tasks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The stilted homes of Mistral stood over him as he walked, Khajiit and Mer using the areas below for trade. Ma’khajiit chased guar and chickens through the city, yelling at their play. A woodworker gave Sinjaro a once over, shaking her head at the sight of the Khajiit’s bow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro approached the Altmer, removing the shield and the staff from his bag.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one would like to sell these,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A mage’s staff, and a rather nice looking shield. Where would you find such rarities?” the elf questioned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sinjaro is not someone to be taken lightly,” the Khajiit shrugged as an answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Mer ran a hand down the staff.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lightning imbued with ice. Very dangerous combination..” she said. “It is well crafted, for an apprentice mage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sinjaro is no mage.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That is obvious,” the Mer smirked. “Yet you do have some magic. You managed to summon a familiar at the least.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She motioned to Zephron, who had gained a strange, almost calico pattern to her fur. Sinjaro was uncertain how that had happened, or when.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suggest you visit a Mages’ Guildhall, and have them teach you to better harness your energies. But, as for the wood… I can offer forty gold for the staff and the shield together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Forty gold. Sinjaro didn’t even think about it. That would be plenty for a nice hot meal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Done,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking the gold, the Khajiit left the weapons behind, smiling as he spied a leatherworker nearby.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“One hundred eighty gold?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That is correct,” the leatherworker said, holding up the boots. “These boots are of the finest quality and will never become worn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were cheap boots, plain boots. Sinjaro could see another three pairs that each looked fancier than the one before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Muttering quietly, Sinjaro paid for the boots. He couldn’t go without any longer. Sitting down, he began pulling the boots on, wincing in pain as they scraped over his battered feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zephron tensed suddenly, energy flowing from Sinjaro, and the pain in his feet vanished.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you’re a healer now?” he said, staring at the familiar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zephron sat and began licking her paw. Shaking his head, Sinjaro stood. He still had a little money left over. It was time to find something to eat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Walking past the Chancery, Sinjaro noticed a box tucked in some bushes. Scanning the area, he stooped next to the small container, opening it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inside were a pair of simple looking rings. They looked old, like they had been sitting in the box for years. Shrugging, Sinjaro snatched them out of the container, no one trying to stop him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the Khajiit slid a ring on each hand, he felt a feeling of vigor rush over him, as though he was healthier than before. Magic rings…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro smiled, walking away. He would get his food, and then there was one more stop he wanted to make before he went on Razum Dar’s errand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sitting at a bar near the Chancery, the Khajiit watched the chef at work, chopping vegetables while a cauldron bubbled beside her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is your request?” she asked, pausing in her work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you have?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guar breast, boiled radish, filleted trout. Prices vary, but the radish is cheapest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro frowned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one will take the radish then,” he said, pulling out his gold. “Sinjaro is also out of je’m’ath.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one has much je’m’ath. You may have a sack of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro smiled happily. He had been without the sugar for far too long. Now it seemed his drought was over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The chef passed him a bowl of boiled radishes, the Khajiit devouring them quickly. He needed to remember how to cook meat, and fast, or he would never survive on a hunt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A Khajiit sat beside Sinjaro, the hunter glancing over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Draskay, trevan,” Lieutenant K’radel said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sala kha’jay,” Sinjaro greeted her. “What brings you to Mistral?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve been reassigned. I’m here searching for a ship.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one recommends the Prowler. Their captain is very friendly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Friendly with isozeva?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro laughed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one would not know. Sinjaro never asked. That Razum Dar, though… He is isozeva if this one has ever seen one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That one certainly has a way with words,” K’radel agreed. “Oh, I should mention the Dominion has decided to make Eagle Strand their forward base for the moment. Unfortunately it is unlikely you will be getting your… home… back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That is a shame. This one always liked the knowledge there was something waiting back home. But Sinjaro did expect this outcome.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have a few recipes. I know they won’t make up for the loss of your sleeping area, but at least you can learn some variety in your meals, yes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sinjaro shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one would be grateful to learn how to cook again. Sinjaro has suffered a rather… unusual setback in that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>K’radel pulled a small sheaf of papers from her pocket, scanning through them before sliding them over. Sinjaro looked through them, finding a recipe for chicken breast among a couple other notes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you. Bright Moons guide your path,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Warm sands, my friend,” K’radel replied as Sinjaro stood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The chef slid a sizable bag toward him, Sinjaro smiling in thanks as he fitted it into his own bag. He was unsure of how long the moon sugar would last, but he was grateful to have some carried with him. Maybe it would bring him back to the Riddle’thar. In any case, he had work to do.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Khajiit approached the wayshrine of Mistral, a large statue of a regal senche-lion sitting within the open structure. He felt strange in this place. His body was thrumming with energy, not unlike it did when he collected the power from skyshards.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Khajiit and Mer walked past Sinjaro with purpose in their strides, none looking at the lone Khajiit. He sat in front of the shrine, studying it as the power within him ebbed and flowed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The eyes of the senche-lion suddenly erupted in a bright blue glow, and Sinjaro gasped. His body felt more calm, almost connected with this place of power.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t understand it. Sinjaro had been to this wayshrine several times. It was his favourite spot in Mistral. But the statue had never done anything like this before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe he would go to the Mages’ Guild. There was no doubt that something strange was going on with him. The shrine made him feel warm though, safe from the ills of the world. Maybe he would make this his new home. It was certainly no worse than the other places he had slept.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He moved to sit between the statue’s feet, the stone radiating warmth through him. He would rest here a while, then continue his journey.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Removing the papers K’radel had given him, the Khajiit began reading, memorising ingredients he had known once before.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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